Passing the Butt
by amaretto and coke
Summary: Thanks to Ed, the crew's out of cigarettes. This leads to sex. No, really, it does. Jet/Spike.


"Where the hell are my cigarettes?" Spike muttered as he tore down a small section of the shelf in his room. Books, papers with unintelligible scribbles, trinkets, alarm clock. The clock hit the floor with a resounding _clang _and he repeated his question loudly enough to rattle the eardrums of anyone in the vicinity. _"Where the hell are my cigarettes?"_

A lazy set of high heels came clicking down the hall, and Faye Valentine stood in his doorway. Her purple hair gleamed darkly, matching the seductive luster of her ruby lips and hooded emerald eyes. Her ripe breasts were nestled snugly in her bright yellow top, a solitary button her only protection against embarrassment. Her equally yellow pants sat comfortably on the lower part of her hips, offering a peek-a-boo for anyone who really wanted to look. 

Yeech.

He turned his back on her and tore all of the covers from the mattress, immediately wishing that he hadn't. The mattress, having been deprived of the light of day for several months, had abandoned its original blue color and taken on an intriguing combination of grayish-greenish splotches, with a little black added in for variety. He groaned.

"What's all the yelling for?" she drawled at him.

He gave her an icy stare. "If you can't tell by now, you'll just have to stay in the dark." He kicked the rotting mattress into an upright position, looking beneath it frantically. No dice. Landing a punch square in the center of the offending cushion didn't make him feel a bit better. And it busted a large hole through the polyethylene. Damn it. "WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CIGARETTES?"

Faye sighed, exasperated. Or at least doing a great job of acting like it. "Stop being obnoxious. Here, have some of mine." She patted her pocket, but her face wrinkled in an unflattering way as she failed to locate her pack. She then proceeded to search herself in a manner that could easily have been considered obscene. Coming up empty-handed, she turned on Spike in a fury. "Where the hell are my cigarettes?"

"I don't know, you nitwit! I can't find my own!"

The argument had become more agitated and increasingly more animated as Jet stepped out of the maintenance room, growing disoriented by all of the noise and the strong odor of nicotine. And not just a single cigarette burning, either…more like 200 going at once.

He marched towards his…um, _cooperative_ crew, who were at the point of drawing their guns and threatening each other with a pistol whippin'. "What is the problem with you two?"

"Where the hell are my cigarettes!?" they screamed at him in unison, startling the older man and making him drop the engine part that he had promised himself that he wouldn't drop. Damn nutcases…he didn't answer, watching their faces turn a frightening shade of red.

_"Jet!"_ Faye sobbed, clutching him close and pressing her luscious body full against him. Yeech. "Spike's got my cigarettes! And I can't live without them!"

"What?!" Spike gestured to his room. "Where would I have them? I don't even know where mine are!"

Jet sighed. "Did either of you ask Ed?"

They stared at him, surprised. And naturally, the argument came to a screeching halt. The second one started immediately thereafter.

"Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth!"

The person in question was sitting in the living area, happily sculpting away on a project. Upon hearing her name screamed out with such urgency, she came running to the hall that led to the bunks. She blinked twice, seeing the crew playing a giant game of upright Twister. "Did someone call Edward?"

Spike sucked in a lungful of air in order to bellow the oft-repeated question, but Jet silenced him with a headlock. "Ed, have you seen the cigarettes?"

"Yes, Jet-person, Ed has them all!"

"What?!" Faye spluttered.

"Come, Faye-Faye!" Ed took off just like an airplane, with three adults in hot pursuit. They reached the common area in record time for a lump of three people, just in time to see Ein on fire. Faye screamed; Jet gasped. Spike scratched his butt. 

"Ed!"

"Look, Faye-Faye! Since everyone likes cigarettes, Edward is burning one big cigarette for everyone!" She gestured proudly as the Ein sculpture, made entirely of the missing cigarettes, smoked and fumed. The real Ein was near his empty dish, looking eager now that Jet was in the room.

"What…" Jet began.

"The hell?" Spike finished.

"Oh, god," Faye responded. "She made statuary from our cigarettes?"

Jet sighed again. "Okay, look. I've got – Spike, let go of me – one more carton of cigarettes in my room. Faye, get off my foot. It's got six more packs in it. Someone has to go to the store and buy more. And whoever goes gets to take Ed." His left arm snapped out by reflex and caught the green haired bounty hunter; his right leg blocked the escape route of the female. "Hey, the two of you face death on a regular basis. What's the problem here?"

"That's not death, it's Ed!" Spike screeched.

"Jet, this is totally unfair!" Faye pleaded.

Jet sighed yet again, releasing them both. "Look, take some money. Buy food or something. But we're gonna want more smokes, and soon, right? No sense in putting it off forever."

Faye stared at the ground for a moment before squaring her shoulders. "I want the shower fixed by the time I get back."

"I'll do my best," Jet promised. "Buy something for Ein, too."

The hangar rattled as Faye took off, with Ed in tow. This left Spike alone in the common area with Ein, who ignored him. _Ditto, pal, _Spike thought as smoke drifted lazily through the warm air. He looked at the huge pile of ashes that had resulted from Ed's impromptu art lesson and sighed. He felt a little loopy. All of that nicotine going into the air at once…he scratched behind his ear and stretched out.

"Hey, Spike." Jet's rumble made his eyes spring open. "Someone's gotta clean that up."

"But it smells so good. Let it be."

Jet frowned. Or maybe that was his usual face. "All right, but only until Faye gets back. Ed'll have ashes everywhere otherwise."

"Jet, come here for a minute." Spike patted the couch cushion next to his own seat. "Smell it. It'll relax you."

"No thanks." The big man began to walk away. "I can't go anywhere _without_ smelling it."

Spike shrugged lazily as he popped open a can of beer. It was warm and foamy, and tasted like complete crap. He yelled something to Jet about fixing the refrigeration unit. Jet yelled something back. Neither of them had heard what the other had said. He drank his can of liquid bread while staring at nothing in particular.

Eventually the icky beer was gone, and Spike, bored with his own company and the virtually non-existent companionship of Ein, went in search of Jet. He pulled out a cigarette as he walked, but didn't light it immediately. _Gotta ration…_

The door to the maintenance room slid open with a whisper, and Jet was in there, covered in engine oil. And naked from the waist up. God, what a nice set of shoulders. What a beautiful back. What a pissed off expression.

"I thought that you were asleep."

Spike said nothing. Truthfully, nothing could come out, seeing as how his jaw was practically on the floor.

"Um…Spike?"

"Uhhh?"

"You're slobbering. Maybe you should get that fixed?"

Realizing that this was indeed true, he gathered what little remained of his dignity and walked away, only to end up in front of the engine room three minutes later. Cursing his inability to turn to the left or the right, he knocked on the door, which opened to reveal the half-naked Jet once again. "Spike, were you saying something about the United Nations earlier?"

"What?! Oh…no, the _refrigeration._ The beer's going sour."

"Oh. Damn." The larger man squinted as sparks went off around his ears. Spike took the opportunity to dash away, this time making very sure to turn at some point. He ended up right in front of the shower, scratching his mop of green hair.

"I shouldn't be here. Why shouldn't I be here, again?"

He heard footsteps coming up behind him, and turned to face…none other than Jet. Ears reddening, he backed away slowly. Jet advanced, an odd look on his face. 

"Spike, do you need the shower?"

"No!" Spike squeaked. "Not at all. You go right ahead."

"Because it's broken."

"I knew that," Spike babbled quickly.

"Let me borrow your belt."

Instantly, he felt lightheaded, most likely from all of the blood in his brain heading to points south. "Why?"

"Can I borrow it, please?" Jet held out a paw. The metal one. Spike slowly unbuckled his belt and handed it over. As his hand made contact with Jet's, he quite unexpectedly burst into giggles and ran down the hall.

Jet stood there, aghast at this new, worrisome side of his partner. He had noticed Spike's pants beginning to slide from the lack of belt. He wondered if he should have spoken up.

There was a skidding noise, and an _oof!_ from elsewhere in the ship, and he shrugged as he entered the cramped bathroom. Ah, well. Next time for sure.

Spike just barely managed to scramble into his room and collapse on the mattress before he let loose with a bellyful of giggles. "Ah, god, that was too close…" He then realized that he was lying face down in mold and jumped up again, swiping at his face. "Note to self: new mattress, pronto." He began to try to straighten up his room as the noisy clanking of the pipes let him know that the shower was running.

Jet was in the shower. 

Trying to ignore that fact and concentrate on the task at hand, he put the jangling alarm clock back on the shelf, picked up the mildewing books, and looked at the papers. Attempts at a short story, begun six different ways. Love letters to Julia that he had never quite had the courage to send. A list of the different types of exotic cigarettes that he wanted to try. Why in the _hell_ had he bothered to write that? He made a huge ball of the papers to throw them away, suddenly getting the urge to shoot the wadded paper into the wastebasket in the kitchen. It was definitely a silly urge, and one that he should have resisted. But today was a silly day, and he threw the door open only to run into something solid. He hit the floor hard.

Jet was out of the shower.

Spike stared at him. "What's up?"

"I came to bring your belt back." Jet held out a strap of waterlogged black leather. "Thanks."

The younger man got to his feet unsteadily to take the belt back. Too late! His pants, seeing their missing component, fell from his hips in a frenzy of excitement and left him with nothing but a faded pair of boxers for protection. He looked into Jet's emotionless dark blue eyes, and gulped.

Slowly, the left side of Jet's mouth quirked. "Maybe you should be using that belt."

"What did you use it for?" Spike asked hoarsely.

"Just needed to see if a piece of flexible material could keep the shower head from shaking when the hot water came through. It worked like a charm. Thanks again."

"You're- you're welcome." Their eyes met, and Spike felt his face begin to burn. Jet looked entirely too calm as he reached out and took Spike's hand, presumably examining it for bruises. "Faye told me that you busted up your mattress. I'll bet you ruptured one of the springs."

"Probably," Spike stuttered.

"Not real comfortable to sleep on, I reckon."

"I'm not sure."

Jet looked at him again, and that lightheaded feeling returned with a vengeance. And judging from the evil-looking glint that Jet had in his eyes, it was entirely mutual.

"What are those two meatheads doing?" Faye grumbled. "This ship is such a mess. You'd think that they'd at least have cleaned up all those ashes…" Ed, as earlier predicted, had made a beeline straight through the heap, filling the air in the common room with dust particles. 

The maintenance room door stood wide open, inviting anyone whom pleased to come in and create havoc. 

The shower was running, hot water beginning to fill the small stall. Steam billowed into the hall, covering the walls with a dangerously slick sheen of condensation.

The heat lamps in the modified greenhouse were working overtime. Jet's bonsai were wilting from lack of water.

Faye made a disgusted noise and dropped the bags. "Hey, losers! I got your stinkin' cigarettes! Come and get it!" No one answered, and she scowled, taking ten of the twelve cartons for herself, before lighting up and plopping down on the yellow loveseat. No bounties right now. Or at least, none that she could look up on her own. Where had they gone, for goodness sakes?

Ed was zooming down the hall, right in the direction of the bunks. She was barefoot, but careful enough not to slip as she flew past the bathroom. What she saw in Spike's room, though, made her skid to a halt and stare in confusion.

Spike was in there. And Jet was in there. And they were on top of each other. Spike's lanky arms around Jet's neck, Jet's powerful arms dangling off the bed. And they were so…so still.

She backed away slowly, mouth forming a perfect "O". "Faye-Faye…"

Faye continued to lounge out front, blowing smoke and adding to the pollutants in the air. The air filter protested its increased workload. Just another thing for Jet to fix.

Ed came tearing back out front, eyes wide. "Faye-Faye! Jet-person…and Spike-person…Edward saw them…they're not moving!" Her voice dropped, scared. "Faye-Faye…Edward thinks maybe they killed each other?"

Faye sat up sharply, but upon hearing a soft snore from the direction of the bunks, she smiled, ruffled the girl's flame-red hair and sucked in another lungful of smoke.

"They're not dead, Ed. We couldn't get that lucky if I had rigged it myself."


End file.
